


The Way He Sees

by lunchgroup



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Overstimulation, PWP, Praise Kink, Praise Kink if you squint, Trans Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchgroup/pseuds/lunchgroup
Summary: Connor… Closes his eyes. The first few times it happens during sex, Hank didn’t think too much of it. They get into kissing, then touching, then somewhere along the line Connors eyes close and don’t reopen.





	The Way He Sees

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh semi-based on a tru story

Connor… Closes his eyes. The first few times it happens during sex, Hank didn’t think too much of it. They get into kissing, then touching, then somewhere along the line Connors eyes close and don’t reopen. When Connor comes, he’ll do a soft reboot, then his eyes blink open after a moment and he’s back. It’s a bit slower when he doesn’t come, so Hank placates himself with tracing patterns into the silicone-soft skin until he comes around.  
  
It’s pretty common, Hank thinks, to get caught up in feeling everything. But it  _keeps happening_ , and he begins to worry. Worry about himself, of course. Connor always insists that Hank’s age or weight or appearance is absolutely no problem, that humans are unique as a rule. Thank Connor loves him so, so much. But Connor keeping his eyes closed during sex and only sex? He can’t help but notice and feel like it’s something to do with him.  
  
Or maybe Connor’s in pain? The robo-pussy they installed a while ago was supposedto be compatible with all models, but Connor’s certainly not all models. He’s never made any indication that he’s hurting though, other than a sharp intake of breath when Hank pushes in the first time. No, Hank thinks, he’s definitely all smiles even then.  
  
So the next time Hank notices his eyes are closed, he slows to a stop. His cock is still inside the android. Connor’s head tilts to the side on the pillow, eyebrows raising in a question, but eyes remaining closed.  
  
“Hank?” he asks, softly, “Are you alright?” his hands find Hank’s forearms pressed by his hips and rubs up and down.  
  
Hank swallows a few times, gathering courage to ask a fairly simple but loaded question. “Wh-... Why don’t you look at me?” Connors LED flickers a few times and his throat moves to speak, but no answer. He’ll have to be specific. “When we have sex, I mean. You’ve never looked at me, and I  _know_ you say that I’m beautiful or perfect or whatever,” he’s aware he’s rambling, “but your eyes are always closed. What’s that about?”  
  
Connor’s LED chugs a little more before he finally answers with a choked-off voice, “pull out, and I’ll tell you.” It breaks Hank’s heart to stop what was a pretty good lay considering, but he follows orders. He wants to know sooner rather than later. After a quick few seconds, Connor flinches and his eyes finally open. Hank is able to catch the apertures of his irises dilate in the light of the room. He smiles when Hank’s face finally comes into focus, pulling him down for a sweet kiss.  
  
Once the kiss has run its course, Hank pitches over, flopping on his side to rest next to Connor. He waits, trailing his fingernails up, down, up Connor’s flank. Connor’s LED goes back to work. He knows the answer, but it’s hard sometimes to find words for data and information that’s sitting there, easy for no-one but him to read. How to not offend, how to start a conversation, these are things he was  _built_ for, but it never gets easier. Humans are so much more complicated than he was programmed to believe. Finally, he tries.  
  
“Even in a nominal state, I’m constantly taking in and processing information. Right now, I can tell you it’s 77 degrees in here, with 48% humidity. There’s a storm rolling in, but it shouldn’t cause too many problems. Your phone will die in 73 minutes on standby unless you plug it in. Your wifi’s running at 210 megabytes-per-second, and the bill’s due next week,” He states mechanically, as he stares past Hank’s head. Hank nods, feigning understanding. He knows Connor will tie it in, the clever man he is. “When we-” he breaks, embarrassed even for an android. “When we fuck,” the word stirs Hank’s gut but he pushes it down, “I am completely overwhelmed.  _By you._ ” Connor finally meets Hank’s eyes, his cheeks airbrushed blue.  
  
“You know I’m made to analyze. But there’s so much of you to take in. You’re  _living._ Everything’s always changing about you. Your temperature, breathing, heart rate, the way you smell, the way you  _feel._ Did you know that my sense of touch is about fifty-times as sensitive as yours is? I could feel the ridges of your fingerprint with my elbow,” he pauses, chuckling, “if I wanted to. And I know you don’t need me to get started on how great you taste, always. I get lost in your data. In  _you._ ”  
  
Hank does nothing but blush and widen his eyes, so he continues, “With all the incoming data, some systems go offline without my control. Optics is a fairly integral system to my overall function, so you can imagine how far I have to get for that to be overridden. But you do it to me.” He stops speaking. He’s talked himself into a corner, and can’t really proceed without some input.  
  
“You mean that I fuck you so good that you gotta turn off your bluetooth and your _eyes_?” The words would sound teasing any other way, but Hank’s tone is serious and Connor is able to register that. He wishes he was a more eloquent man, but it’s as good as he can manage presently.  
  
“In a sense, yes.” He answers, mouth quirking up a little. “I promise that you  _are_ ‘beautiful or perfect or whatever,’” He mouths Hank’s audio bit, “and I would stare at you the entire time if I could, but I’m pretty sure if I tried to force optics to run, something of equal importance would go offline,” he winces, “like my genital component.”  
  
Hank barks a laugh and digs his hand into his hair. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” When he calms down he continues, “though I  _do_ wish you could watch. Watch how beautiful you are taking a cock. Watch the way you get pushed into the bed when you tell me to go harder. The way your skin does this… _thing_ when you’re close,” his voice trails off.  
  
“Watch you when you come,” Connor supplies, trying to construct it. Hank blushes harder.  
  
“Yeah, I suppose if you  _wanna._ ”  
  
Connor rolls his eyes -he picked that up from Hank- and snuggles into Hank. Connor’s still wet, he can feel, but this feels like the right thing to do. They rest, neither of them thinking of much, for a while. Hank could swear it’s forever but Connor could clock it as exactly 16 minutes and 4 seconds. Two seconds later Hank stirs, clearing his throat to speak.  
  
“What if you turned off other, less important, things? Like, what stays  _on_ during sex?”  
  
Connor thinks, LED turning yellow for a moment. As he pulls up a few of the most recent logs, he knows where Hank’s going with this. “All my vital hardware, like my pump, temp regulator, and memory disk stay running. Software like my clock, calendar, thermometer, internal compass, and personality drive, too.”  
  
“So you’re telling me that knowing its 4 o’clock on a rainy Detroit Tuesday is more important to your brain than, ya’know,  _seeing?_ ”  
  
“That’s puzzling to me, too, actually. I suppose I could try to reorder the priority of each task, but no guarantees there wouldn’t be any bugs. I’m not even sure where I’d figure out how to; I  _am_ the only of my kind.” He chews on his bottom lip, something he did  _not_ learn from Hank.  
  
“We’ll figure something out, dear.” Hank wraps his arms around Connor, who fits perfectly inside.  
  
“We’re both still aroused, though,” he murmurs, muffled by Hank’s pecs.  
  
A laugh echoes into his ear, and Hank replies, “wanna do something about that?”  
  
“You  _know_ I do.”  
  
Connor takes initiative and pushes Hank onto his back, throwing a leg over him. He frots against Hank until Hank’s hard again and wet enough. When Connor finally sinks down onto Hank, he lolls his head back and there’s that hiss again. A few thrusts and his head rolls back forward, eyes now closed. Now that Hank knows the reason, he’s able to fully appreciate it. It’s awfully endearing.  
  
Connor’s face is still plenty expressive, his eyebrows twitching, mouth hanging open to circulate air. Hank teases Connor with a few hard strokes, and every time, his face contracts, relaxes. It’s mesmerizing to watch the effect  _he’s_ having on him. He tells him so.  
  
“Perfect android, getting all bent out of shape over ol’ human me?” Connor huffs a laugh just as Hank slams up again, and the laugh turns into a long groan. “Gorgeous.” Connor whimpers. It’s then that Hank realizes that Connor can still hear him. He doesn’t talk much usually, but it would give him some feedback he’s missing out on. So Hank tries.  
  
“God, Connor, you’re  _so_ beautiful. Bouncing on me like this. You’re so... _blue!_ It’s amazing.” Connor whimpers again, egging him on. “My dick looks  _so_ good slotted inside you. Like you were made for it. And the cum you leak? That’s how I know you’ve been there. We did that.” Connor makes a noise akin to a sob. Hank doesn’t need to feel the flutter of his insides to know he’s close. He goes for one last push.  
  
“And just now, when you’re  _so_ close, your skin fades away in little patches, and you glow. It’s spectacular.” He punctuates the last words with thrusts, and Connor wails, clenching around Hank and hunching forward. Connor spasms a few times, Hank softly grinding into the him in time. The sensation is finally too much for Hank, and he grunts with his release soon after.  
  
Once Hank is sure Connor’s spent and in the process of restarting, he slips out and rolls Connor on his side. He’d let him lay on top, but Connor is far heavier than he lets on, the metal menace. It’s then that Hank notices something He’s missed all the times before; Connor’s eyes are moving. Just as if he were in REM sleep, they pass back and forth under his eyelids, looking at some unseen thing. It fascinates Hank. Just as he thinks he’ll have to ask him about it later, Connor’s eyes flutter open. His mouth curls into a slow smile.  
  
“‘m back,” he announces.  
  
“Sure are, babe. You did so well.” Hank pulls the covers over both of them and falls asleep, snuggled into Connor’s radiant heat.


End file.
